


Frostbite

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Series: Savor The Suffering [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Inner Cold, Isolation, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Poor Clint, Post-Canon, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1212268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>If he rested, he froze.</em>
</p><p>The side effects of a Frost Giant's control over a Human mind are sometimes physical. Often painfully so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frostbite

Cold, cold, always cold...

Hawkeye had been working hard these past weeks, despite what his therapists said. "So soon in the aftermath...you should be resting," they warned, but Clint knew they were wrong. He needed to move, to exercise, to keep his body in a constant state of sweat because he knew what would happen if he didn't:

If he rested, he froze.

It wasn't a normal chill that would find him, either. This was something unearthly—waves of ice pressuring down on him, rolling over his skin until he was raw, hunched, and shivering. It was a constant state of hypothermia, and though he curled up beneath every blanket he could find and drank enough coffee to hurt his chest, The Hawk couldn't force the chill away.

When it first started, Hawkeye had decided he wouldn't tell anyone. Everyone was tentative around him as it was; there was no reason to feed the gossip about lingering traces of Loki in his mind. Unfortunately his problem was becoming more and more obvious with each passing day. Today's bout, if it was possible, seemed the worst of all. Hawkeye was trying his hardest to pay attention, trying to at least get the gist of the briefing he was in, but the telltale tightening of his veins and the pulsing ache in his head were unimaginably distracting.

Hawkeye swallowed hard and immediately regretted it, as the movement set his teeth to a silent chatter. Fatigue and minute, blurry flashes of white pained his eyes and he risked closing them for just a moment, reminding himself how breathing worked.

"Barton!" Nick Fury's voice broke through the ice, in this instance perhaps literally. Hawkeye lurched as the cold that enveloped him became enough to make him visibly, humiliatingly start shaking.

Before Fury could order him to the doctor, Hawkeye forced himself to his feet. He stumbled the first step but managed to avoid repetitions as he retreated. 

When he finally was able to focus, Clint found himself where he always ended up eventually: the vents. The comforting, rhythmic, isolated vents where he was free to loosen his body. The sooner he let the cold wrack him, the sooner it would pass. At least, that was his futile hope.

He barely looked up when Natasha sank silently down next to him. When she touched his shoulder, however, both of them drew in sharp breaths.

"Clint..." Natasha whispered uneasily, "your skin is like ice."

A low moan escaped his lips and he buried his face in his hands, quaking more violently. Whether it was with the worst of the cold or tears Natasha wouldn't know, but she didn't hesitate to pull Clint to her and begin rubbing her hands up and down his body, offering what comfort she could. There they stayed until both Hawkeye and the cold within him were thoroughly spent. His head hung low as he was helped to his feet and his arm was pulled over familiar shoulders for balance. Soon Clint was vaguely aware of blankets and a heating pad wrapped around his slightly blue-tinged feet. Then there was a hazy form just above, murmuring what was assumed to be words of comfort. The gentle kiss on his forehead that followed reminded him of his mother and gave him a small spark of hope. Perhaps the cold would be gone when he awoke. If not, he knew who would be there for him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who don't know, I've based this on how small-fiber-neuropathy can feel. I have POTS Syndrome and small-fiber-neuropathy is often connected to that, so I would know. I hope it's these sorts of reality tastes that make my stories worth reading!
> 
> Please comment, I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
